Another SunSoaked Season
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: Summer. The word burns on her tongue, and fizzles like a freshly opened soda, and kissing during the summer causes all of the feelings to just explode into the sunset. Simon/Jeanette.


Another Sun-Soaked Season

Summary: Summer. The word burns on her tongue, and fizzles like a freshly opened soda, and kissing during the summer causes all of the feelings to just explode into the sunset. Simon/Jeanette.

English Romance/Angst Rated: T Chapters:1 Words: Simon S. & Jeanette M.

The sinking sun combusts into a raging fire, of Sunkist orange and cotton candy pink and pastel lavender and faded yellow, with golden smoke that curls into low clouds. She lowers her head against his shoulder, listening to the _creak, creak, creak _of the porch swing, slipping a hand over the rusty chain supporting them. Fingertips pressed against hers, fur tickles her chin, sizzling concrete underfoot. "This is…" Jeanette can't find the words, for the first time in her life, and his fingertip brushes her lips.

"We'll stay together," Simon whispers, in the kind of voice that sends chills racing down her spine and brings boiling hot tears to her emerald eyes. It's not the words (she knows the words) but the fact that he's right: They will stay together, they have to stay together. Ocean waves crash just inches away from the screened porch, the air smells like salt and coconut sunscreen and fading happiness. "I'll call you."

"Make that a promise." Jeanette shifts on the bench, placing her foot in his lap, wearing purple Converse, the kind with white rubber tips. Simon is surprised, but gets the hint; using a Sharpie from his bag, he writes his phone number on the blank tip. Tears fill his own eyes (colored the same shade of ocean waves, the kind at daybreak, that are peacock gray.) Hands over hers again. She's crying now, for real. "I don't want to go."

"No one ever wants to leave Karman Beach," he murmurs, and she chokes out a sort of sobbing giggle, as Simon pulls her closer, stroking her chocolaty hair, his fingertips tingling with the soft as sand strands. "We'll talk, we'll e-mail, we'll visit, you'll come back next summer…" Simon's voice fades with the last crash of high tide, as Jeanette gathers her composure.

"I'm going to miss you." Jeanette surprises herself, and leans forward, pressing her lips against his, discovering that she was right. She knows how Simon would taste: like the salty sadness, when a tear lands on your fingertip and you touch it with your tongue. Jeanette wraps her arms around him, and he does the same, so that they're sharing warmth and sadness and tears and promises.

::::::

The whole ride back to L.A., Jeanette Miller is in a bad mood. After vacationing in Karman Beach for three weeks, returning to a suburban household, without any ocean breeze, relaxed evenings, or glorious sunsets, seems nearly impossible. But that's not the real reason Jeanette is upset: She misses the boy who lives on the beach, the one person who talked to her, laughed with her, truly _loved _her.

"Someone is love-sick," her older sister, Brittany, jeers, and Jeanette refrains from yelling at her; she just looks back down at her novel, thoughts solely on Simon Seville. Brittany doesn't understand, she just dates boys for the fun of it, then dumps them like yesterday's garbage. Even Eleanor, Jeanette's more innocent younger sister, doesn't understand the kind of feelings Jeanette felt with Simon.

Two and a half weeks later, the air turns chillier, the afternoons are crisper, and tawny leaves fall along with midnight rain. Jeanette returns to school tanner, with new contacts, but with little enthusiasm about starting the tenth grade: Her thoughts are still on Simon. They called last night (he doesn't start school for another week) and he ended their call with a sincere "I love you."

"Jeanette? You've been staring at your locker for five minutes, aren't you going to open it?" Eleanor asks, after Jeanette plunges into a daydream filled with endless summer days on the beach with Simon. Jeanette blushes, and Eleanor smiles, walking to her fifth period class, and Jeanette stares at her locker, waiting, wishing, begging the sun to shift in the sky and make summer come early.

:::::

"Simon?"

He opens his eyes, realizing he's been laying on the beach for hours, dreaming about Jeanette, Jeanette, Jeanette, and her jewel eyes, satin hair, and her rosy lips. Alvin, his older brother, snickers when he sees that Simon is now the color of Alvin's crimson attire (he forgot to put on sunscreen again.) "Dude, what's up with you?"

"Nothing," Simon snaps, rolling up his towel and stalking back towards the house, which balances on rickety stilts over the water's edge, where his guardian, Dave, runs a surfboard rental shop. Business is bad during the winter, but they make with what they have, which is a strong family. His younger brother, Theodore, is making dinner-grilled fish-and his sister, Amanda, is lounging about the dining room table, doing what she calls "supervising."

"Amanda, can you please set the table?" Dave's voice comes from the living room, as Amanda lowers her novel only a few inches from her face, looking around for someone else to pass this duty to. Her eyes settle on Simon, who is tossing his towel into the hamper, wincing as he rubs the newly burned skin underneath his fur.

"Si, Dave wants you to set the table," Amanda says cheerfully, reaching over on the counter, tossing him a bottle of Aspirin for his pain. He takes two pills and chucks the bottle back at her, a rather violent way of saying "get off your own lazy butt and set the freakin' table." "You were thinking about Jeanette," she whispers, not in a teasing way, but just in a sincere, "hey, I'm a girl and I care" kind of way.

"When am I not thinking about Jeanette," Simon answers wistfully, thinking about the glorious girl who had been too shy to actually rent a surfboard, so they just sat at the counter all day, talking. God, she was so funny and smart and creative and beautiful, and he missed her even more with each passing day. "God, why can't it be summer already?"

"Hey, summer will come soon," Amanda responds gently, patting his shoulder, both grimacing after she realizes that she's agitating his burned shoulders. Still, after he does, Simon musters a soft smile, going upstairs to change, sand gritting beneath his bare feet. That's the thing about living by the shore: sand, sand, everywhere in the house. But at least every morning smells like sea salt.

_Summer will come soon, _Simon reminds himself, pulling off his navy T-shirt, pressing the hem to his button nose and inhaling the fleeting scent of the ocean. Memories of Jeanette fill his mind faster then he can control, and he has to take a deep breath, and remind himself that she's waiting for him too.

::::::

Suffering through fall and winter is miserable for Jeanette. Her lavender tank tops and denim cut-offs wait in the back of her closet, smelling of sand, salt, and Simon, her conch shell necklace hangs on the back of her desk chair, where a picture of her and Simon at twilight sits. Jeanette has never felt this lonely in her life.

"Jeanie, quit moping over this Simon guy," Brittany admonishes all the time, when they're at the breakfast table, or on the bus, or waiting in the hallway for the bathroom to open up. "You've got to be free: no girl should remain tied down to the same guy for this long. I've dated thirteen guys this year alone, and I'm still free as a bird, so why don't you feel this happy?"

Jeanette can't explain how terrible an idea like that is. All she wants is to see Simon, to kiss Simon, to feel his tears running down her own cheeks, and taste that kind of sadness that words can't explain. "Britt, you don't know what love is," she spits bitterly, so un-Jeanette, that she can't believe she's saying it. "Love is when all you can think about is that person, and you just want them, and being apart is unbearable."

Jeanette steps into the bathroom once Eleanor, with freshly curled hair, skips out and reminds herself to call Simon tonight.

:::::

How?

Tank top, sunset, sand, salt, goose bumps, hair whipping, toes in sand, but where in God's name is he? Jeanette stands on Karman Beach as night begins to drift down from it's resting place, but she ignores that. The beach house is practically in ruins: the windows are broken, the house is full of sand, the roof is split, the façade is splintering, the shutters have been blown off. Where is he? Where did he go? Why did he stop answering, and stop talking, and stop being _here?_

"Simon…" The name is lost in the wind, and Jeanette is sick and tired of being the weak female who longs for their lost love by whispering their name so feebly. So, she gathers all the oxygen she can accumulate, clenching her fists, squeezing her eyes shut. "SIMON!" This time, the name echoes off of everything, including her mind, and she falls to the sand, sobbing, and this time, there's no answer.

"Come on honey, let's get back on the road." Miss Miller gently lifts Jeanette from the ground, carrying her back to the car, because they're heading for the docks. This summer, instead of Karman Beach, Miss Miller's company paid for a cruise around the Pacific Ocean. She had pulled over so Jeanette could revisit her old summer love, but hadn't been counting on this.

"Simon," Jeanette whispers again, clutching a fist full of Miss Miller's shirt, drawing in a shaky breath, thinking, wondering, begging, where is Simon?

::::::

The cruise ship is huge.

That's good. Jeanette will blend right in. Jeanette puts on her normal tanning attire, walking out on the top deck, pretending to be happy and whole, just like every other person up here. She approaches the railing, planting her elbows against the metal rods, giving the illusion that she's simply admiring the choppy waters on the horizon. Jeanette actually giggles at the thought. She leans forward.

And falls d o w n .

Once she hit's the water, she swims. Jeanette will find a way back to Karman Beach.

::::::

Simon Seville sat in the apartment kitchen. After the horrible storm on Karman Beach, their house had finally fallen apart, so Dave was forced to move the family back into the town that was twenty minutes (too long) from the shore. He had lost all contact with Jeanette (painful, painful days) and no idea where she was, until this horrible, terrible, heart-wrenching, tear-jerking (this can't be happening) moment.

"Sixteen year old Jeanette Miller fell off the dock of the Bagdasarian Star this morning, and her body was not recovered," the reporter says grimly (l i a r.) "She was out on the top deck of the cruise ship, when her younger sister reports that she fell over the side of the ship. Apparently, she was trying to swim towards Karman Beach, but soon drowned after the ship was ordered to turn around for her."

Liar. Liar, liar, liar, liar. Simon puts his hands over his ears to drown out the reporter's voice, to assure himself that Jeanette is fine, that there's another Jeanette Miller in the world that's looking for him at Karman Beach. He feels someone wrap their arms around him, and Amanda's breath is on his ear, and there's an apology, and he loses sense of it all.

"I'm leaving."

Simon leaves the apartment building without shoes or his wallet or his keys (three things he always has when leaving) and sprints towards Karman Beach, knowing that Jeanette will be there waiting for him.

:::::Let the waves up and take me now::::::

**Well, what do you think? I, personally, think that it's terrible, and I need to get in the hang of writing Simonette again (God, do I write angst or what?) But, I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed writing the beginning, and all of the repetitive scenes and the last line (from Blue October's, "Into the Ocean" which is good to listen to when reading.) Okay, leave a review! Please? =)**


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